


Eternal Happiness or Woe

by bashert



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Season 2, fluff?, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1366510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashert/pseuds/bashert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"What am I supposed to do all day?" Mac whined at her husband.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"Rest," Will replied.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"But," she started. "Oh God, that will be so boring."</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Mac breaks her ankle. She's not exactly the best patient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eternal Happiness or Woe

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote "Rivers and Roads" there was a line about Mac eating bon bons and sitting at home being Will's little wife. This came from that. The title comes from the Sufjan Stevens song. Mostly because it was on while I was writing this.

"What am I supposed to _do_ all day?" Mac whined at her husband.

"Rest," Will replied.

"But," she started. "Oh God, that will be so boring."

"What it will be is necessary," Will shot back. "You broke your ankle, MacKenzie. The doctor said to stay off of it for at least a couple of days."

"Pfft," Mac waved an arm. "I'm fine."

"You are so not fine," Will argued. "You severely broke your ankle. That was the exact word he used. Severe. And then he followed that up with, 'stay off of it for at least _a couple of fucking days_.'"

"He didn't say fucking," Mac replied tartly.

"Christ," Will rubbed his forehead.

"But, all day? _All_ day? Just lay in bed, all day? Can I at least join the rundown meeting via Skype?" she tried.

"No."

"But, _Will_. My brain is working just fine," she pointed out.

"MacKenzie," his voice was firm. "You're on enough painkillers at the moment to tranquilize a horse. You barely have the energy to roll over. How are you summoning the energy to argue with me about this?"

"Sheer determination," she muttered.

"Well, knock it off. The more you rest, the faster you'll be back in the office, marching around giving orders like a tyrant," Will pointed out.

"I'm a tyrant?" Mac pouted.

"A very beautiful, intelligent tyrant," Will amended.

"You could carry me into the office," Mac suggested. "It would be a compromise! I would be off my ankle, but I could still go to work."

"No."

"I don't do inactivity well," she moaned.

"Well, for the next couple of days you're going to have to learn how," Will sighed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I am."

"It's not your fault," she replied immediately. Only, that wasn't _exactly_ true. It had been partly his fault. And partly Maggie's fault. And a little Neal's.

They had all headed down to the bar after work on Thursday after a particularly successful broadcast. Will and Mac being happily married had been working out pretty well for the whole team, actually, as Will was generally more pleasant and more likely to buy rounds of drinks for the staff. Will, Neal, and Maggie were doing Irish car bombs, which Mac had stated, for the record, at least twice, she thought was a very bad idea.

"Come on, honey," Will had been drunk, _really_ drunk, to the amusement of the staff who rarely saw this side of him. (Although, Mac had pointed out when Jim had mentioned that it was the first time he had seen Will inebriated, they _had_ seen him high.) "Drink with us!"

"This is a bad idea," Mac said for the third time.

The next series of events unfolded in such a way that everyone who had witnessed it still had no idea how exactly it had happened, but everyone could agree that it started with Neal trying to convince Will to get up on the stage to do karaoke. Maggie had been tugging on Will's arm, cajoling him into going up on the stage, and Will, in turn, had grabbed onto Mac's arm to anchor himself. A well timed tug from Maggie had tipped Will's stool, tipping Mac's stool since Will had a death grip on his wife's arm, and sent all three tumbling to the floor, with MacKenzie somehow at the bottom of the pile of limbs and stools.

Will had been laughing until he caught sight of Mac's pained expression, and he sobered up rather quickly.

"Mac? What's wrong?" He asked, scrambling off the floor.

"I think I hurt my ankle," she winced.

"I'm so sorry," Maggie kept repeating as Don and Jim helped Mac up onto her righted chair.

"It's definitely broken," Jim reported. "We need to get you to an emergency room."

"Fuck," Will said. And then he added, for good measure, "You were right about those car bombs. They were a bad idea." Mac rolled her eyes as Don scooped her up in his arms and carried her towards the door. Will was about to argue that he could carry her, she was _his_ wife after all, when he tripped over his feet and decided the last thing they needed was for Mac to sustain another injury.

Will was nearly sober by the time Mac's ankle had been x-rayed, diagnosed, and put in a cast, and he was starting to feel both hungover and damn guilty. There had even been talk of surgery, which had made Will's already sour stomach turn.

"Jesus, I'm sorry," he had said, leaning his forehead against Mac's.

"It wasn't your fault," she slurred, the painkillers starting to kick in.

"I should have listened to you," he continued.

"You should _always_ listen to me," she countered.

"I'm sorry," he said again, and she had squeezed his hand and told him not to worry so much about it.

He managed to get her home, and into bed, elevating her ankle and apologizing every so often until she had snapped at him, her patience and the painkillers wearing off.

"Stop apologizing, it was a fucking accident, I don't need to deal with your guilt on top of a broken ankle," she had yelled, and then rubbed at her temples and softened her voice. "Just please get into bed, it's been a long night." He didn't argue, just stripped out of his clothes and climbed into bed carefully next to her, burying his face in her neck and draping an arm around her middle.

Will had expected her to put up a small fight the next morning, but he hadn't anticipated quite how stubborn she was going to be about the whole thing considering how much pain she had to be in, and how little sleep they had gotten the night before.

"Regardless of who is at fault," Will said, brushing the hair back off of Mac's face, "I'm still sorry it happened. But look at the bright side, you get a much-needed break."

"I didn't _want_ a break," Mac whined.

"Well, tough shit," Will replied. He had already arranged his schedule so that he would be home for most of the afternoon, going in for the last rundown meeting and then to do the show. Charlie was going to come over when Will had to leave, to help Mac with whatever she needed, seeing as she was under strict orders to stay off her feet.

"You owe that girl a diamond," was all Charlie had said when Will had explained how Mac's ankle had been broken. "A big, fucking diamond."

"You can watch that show everyone's been talking about that we don't have the time to watch," Will suggested.

"What show?"

"You know," Will shrugged. "That _House of Games_ , or whatever the fuck it is."

"Is that the one that Neal's always talking about?"

"Sure," Will answered. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Now what can I get for you?"

"You can let me Skype the rundown meeting with you?" She tilted her head and smiled sweetly up at him.

"Like a dog with a bone," Will shook his head, and retreated into the living room to grab his laptop and brought it back into the bedroom. Mac's face lit up when he sat down with it.

"Thank God," she breathed out and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I knew you'd crack." He rolled his eyes at her.

"I was just tired of hearing you whine," he insisted.

"Either way," Mac grinned at him. "Also, can you go in the kitchen and get me something to eat? Toast with Nutella? That would be great. And maybe some coffee? You know how I like it." 

"Of course," Will agreed easily, and when he turned around, a grin was sliding across Mac's face. "What?"

"A girl could get used to this," she replied. "Maybe this won't be so bad after all. Maybe I'll like being a kept woman." Will snorted.

"Unlikely," he shot back. "After all, a kept woman would _not_ be joining the rundown by Skype."

"Nevermind," Mac said quickly. "Maybe I can join the last rundown meeting by Skype too."

" _Rest_ , MacKenzie," Will reminded.

"No, yeah, no, I was just thinking that maybe we could somehow set up a webcam in the control room and I could even maybe do the show from home, just for tonight, I'll be back on Monday of course, and..." Will sighed, heading towards the kitchen as Mac rambled on about contingency plans and webcams.

It was going to be a long couple of days.


End file.
